


Scar Tissue

by Lady_Michiru



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP, Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Character Study, Drugs, F/M, M/M, Plotless wangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 09:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4660611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Michiru/pseuds/Lady_Michiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fallin' all over myself<br/>To lick your heart and taste your health 'cause<br/>With the birds I'll share<br/>This lonely view...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scar Tissue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shuwashuwishuwa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuwashuwishuwa/gifts).



> Dear recipent-san, I love you.  
> I wish I could have written you a way better fic.  
> I really hope you can enjoy this, though.  
> Eternal thanks to the prayer circle/cheerleading team, I love you girls, I really do.  
> And to my local support group, S and M [that sounds SO kinky, OMG], who rushed to my room to help me brainstorming when I was stuck *_* I owe you my life.

Yuto doesn’t know quite how it happened, because it seems that it has always been there. Just as the air around him, he just breathed and didn’t think about it. Yamada used to be there, and Yuto used to breathe him in. It was natural and he never thought about it.

Yuto knows when he noticed, or began to. When he and Yamada had gotten so far apart that even the ever hopeful fangirls had noticed, and everything was already too complicated by then. 

So he did nothing. He does nothing. And time goes by. 

And life becomes a sorrowful balance between the void that stings and the presence that tears apart; and the want, the ever present want, like thirst he can’t quench. 

And he can’t fix it. 

And he doesn’t want to. 

***

It’s not that Yuto isn’t trying to get over Yamada, because he is. He is always trying to be too tired to care, too absorbed in his hobbies. 

Too self-confident to notice the missing body beside him on the train when he goes home. Alone. 

But it’s no use; if he closes his eyes he can still feel the weight of Yamada’s sleeping head on his shoulder, _Ai no Katamari_ blasting on repeat from Yamada’s headphones, the bass buzzing on Yuto’s skin along with the golden light of the setting sun as they go home. 

***

Suzuka happens, somehow. A blink of the Universe, a sparkling light Yuto is sure he doesn’t deserve. 

She is solace. 

Her sweet smile and kind heart shroud his broken soul like oiled bandages, and she keeps him together. She is gentle, she is smart; she wants the world and Yuto _wants_ her to conquer it. She awakens in him things he thought long gone and dead. She makes him laugh, she makes him endure everything. And she lets him love her, as much as he can. 

He clings to her for dear life, and never asks why her eyes are sad every time he says _I love you_. Because he knows. 

The world is better when she is there, and Yuto cares. He swears he cares. 

When she says goodbye, years, millennia later, too damn soon, his life goes barreling down, worse than before. She says “Thank you”, and smiles that sad, beautiful smile Yuto has become so familiar with now. 

But Suzuka deserves happiness, and she deserves someone who can give her their whole heart, not the broken fragments and missing pieces Yuto has to give. 

So he kisses her goodbye. He lets her go. And he wishes her all the joy he will never have. 

***

Yuto is a professional. He knows how to handle this. He has been handling fanservice with Yamada since forever, all throughout the times they couldn’t even stand being paired together on the same room on hotels during tours. 

He can do this. He can execute this _brilliant_ variation on the choreography of Super Delicate, he can intertwine with Yamada, and touch his face, and look into his eyes. Yuto can even smile, not grit his teeth, let the fans scream and believe everything is all right. 

But it is not all right, and Yuto had forgotten how much _not all right_ it was, forgotten about it completely. 

Even if they are civil now, even if he can actually congratulate Yamada for his accomplishments and most of the time _feel_ happy for him, really. There’s no professional resentment now, not as it used to be, and Yuto can’t blame both their short tempers for the tension he feels. 

It’s the want, that relentless want, back again and in full bloom, as intoxicating and alluring as frustrating. Eternal. 

***

It’s been a whole week with no work activities; no lousy interviews in which Yuto has to tell the same old half-truths and manipulated lies, no photo shoots in which he has to hold Yamada and pretend. Pretend he does want him, for the camera; pretend he doesn’t want him, for Yamada. 

It’s a good thing, though, because Yuto doesn’t particularly want to be near Yamada right now. 

There was a time when a fight with Yamada was as normal as breathing, an everyday occurrence, almost the only way Yuto had of interacting with him, actually. He doesn’t quite understand why this time it hurts so much. 

As it is, they haven’t talked to each other for a week now, after a screaming fight over something so trivial Yuto can’t remember what it was, even if he tries hard. 

And all the pain is still there, pulsing just under his skin; barely tamed at times and raging heat at others. 

Nicotine and coffee aren’t enough anymore; and bad company is so easy to find these days, so ridiculously easy... 

Yuto pops pills like candy and washes them down with booze. Time and space constrict and expand. And every time he comes to, Yamada is still there behind his eyelids, cocky smile and perfect beauty, everything he wants and can’t have. 

***

_Why this song?_

That’s something Hikaru always asks when he steps on the band rehearsal room and Yuto is playing Red Hot Chili Peppers’ _Scar Tissue_. Which is a lot, lately. 

_Why this song?_

It’s a good question, even if his answer is always “It’s my favorite song”, and Hikaru never buys it. 

_Scar tissue that I wish you saw..._

But, for now, there’s only the sound of the drums. The relentless throb of the bass drum, the cymbals, driving away the silence. _One, two, three, four_ , more and more, quicker, louder. The accelerated rhythm and the sweat; the exhaustion, the beating pulse and the labored breath. Every trick, every means he has for not thinking. 

Nothing has changed, just the circumstances are different. The sky is blue, the sea is vast, and Yuto is in love with Yamada. The world keeps on going just the same. 

“To lick your heart and taste your health?” Yuto is panting, and Hikaru’s voice reaches him along the fading reverberations of the end of the song. “Again?” 

“None of your business,” Yuto replies, a little more brisk than he had intended, even if the bickering age when he managed to pick fights with every one of the members of JUMP is far behind. 

“Why this song?” Hikaru asks, but there’s a sharp undertone in his voice. The question is rhetorical. 

Yuto looks at him, and Hikaru stares back. Hard. Knowing. Yuto’s chuckle is strangled and breathless. 

“I am not telling Yabu anything, ever again.” Yuto breaks the visual contact, but can still feel Hikaru’s eyes on him. 

“Look…,” Hikaru sounds uncomfortable, stiff; like he really doesn’t want to be having this conversation any more than Yuto wants to. “I am not your usual choice of poster boy for group dynamics and stuff… and I wouldn’t usually _tell_ you to get your shit together but…” Hikaru pauses dramatically, waits until Yuto looks up. “Get your shit together. Fix this thing with Yamada.” 

Yuto sighs, craving for a cigarette, not knowing if _this thing with Yamada_ can actually be fixed, much less how to do it. 

***

Yuto knocks twice and doesn’t wait for Yamada to tell him to enter. 

Hikaru discovered this empty storage room a couple of years ago, and shared its existence with all of them. It’s a really peculiar place. The smoke detectors don’t work and it locks from within. It’s too perfect a hiding place from the world to be accidental, but he checked for cameras once and there were none. He is thankful for life’s small blessings. 

The room smells of humidity and stale cigarette smoke. One of the fluorescent lamps is failing again and the whole atmosphere could perfectly be the set of a horror movie. Fitting, Yuto thinks, as he locks the door. 

Yamada is sitting on the floor, with his headphones on. The text he sent Yuto said seven and thirty, and Yuto is only two minutes late, but it looks like Yamada has been here for a long while. 

“Hikaru?” Yuto asks, as he flops down beside Yamada, taking one of the headphones off Yamada’s ear. 

Yamada snorts. “Yabu.” 

“Gossiping bastards, both of them.” 

Yamada nods, without really looking at Yuto. “He _suggested_ we discussed our differences.” 

“Like they used to quietly discuss theirs, right?” Yuto can’t help but point out. 

Yamada snorts again. 

There is silence for a while, and the atmosphere turns a little heavy. Yuto reaches out for his back pocket, takes a cigarette out and lights it. At least it will give him something to do with his hands. 

Yamada reaches to his left, the side opposite to Yuto, and pulls out a bottle, half full with a clear liquid. 

“That’s not water.” Yuto points out the obvious, even before Yamada opens the bottle, pours some vodka into the cap and sips it with a grimace. 

“The next step in Yabu’s plan is to get us drunk and locked down. I’m saving us time,” Yamada explains as he passes the bottle to Yuto. Yamada keeps the cap. 

Yuto drinks from the bottle, after a long drag of his cigarette. He understood, long ago, that “leave me the fuck alone,” just won’t work with Yabu and Hikaru. He has to think of something else. 

“I just don’t get what the hell they want us to fix,” Yuto huffs. He shoves the bottle in Yamada’s direction, but stubbornly keeps from looking at him. 

Yamada fills the cap and drinks the vodka in one draft. He repeats this process three times, then grunts in frustration, grabbing the bottle and drinking directly from it. 

“You really don’t? Really?” Yamada’s quiet resentment takes Yuto by surprise, it talks to his own irritation, stirring it. “You have no idea about what there is to fix?” 

“How the fuck am I supposed to fix the fact that I can’t stand you?” Yuto replies, his voice a whisper husky with bitterness. 

He looks at Yamada, expecting outrage and harsh words, but he only finds pain. 

“You don’t have to like me, you know?” There’s an edge to Yamada’s voice that makes him sound less vulnerable. Yuto clings to it. 

Because a vulnerable Yamada appeals to Yuto’s desire to protect him, reminds Yuto why he still needs the contempt to deal with him. Because hatred is a coward’s choice. Because without anger there’s only pain, and the everlasting longing. And Yuto doesn’t think he can deal with all this again. 

“So all those years pretending to be my friend were just a pose for magazines and interviews.” Yamada’s voice doesn’t even quiver. Yamada’s eyes are dry. 

This is not the storm Yuto hoped for, the noise and thunder he needed for hiding. This is not a fight. This is Yamada’s soul aching in plain view. This is Yamada, bleeding before him, no masks, no bullshit. 

_To lick your heart and taste your health…_

“No,” Yuto admits, the tang of defeat clear and present in his mouth. He viciously stubs out his cigarette against the floor. 

The silence becomes awkward almost immediately, but Yuto can’t help it, not really. His head is full of fog and yearning, and the vodka is not helping. He has always been a lightweight drinker. 

“So?” Yamada asks, finally looking at Yuto. 

Yuto’s limbs feel heavy, like gravity has suddenly triplicated in that stupid tiny room full of smoke. And gravity is Yamada. And it pulls him, like it usually does. But this time, Yuto’s anger has evaporated because of Yamada’s pain, and he has no will left to resist, no shields of hatred to hide behind. 

What’s another bad decision in his life anyway? 

Yamada’s jaw feels disturbingly familiar when Yuto’s hand cups it with his hand. 

“What are you doing?” Yamada drawls. He’s always been a lightweight too. 

“Messing things up for good,” Yuto whispers against Yamada’s lips. 

He expects a hard shove and maybe a punch. Not on the face, because Yamada understands show business better than most people alive, but maybe a right hook to Yuto’s stomach. Instead, Yamada freezes. 

Yuto tries to back down, but Yamada grabs his shoulder and kisses Yuto back with unexpected hunger. Yamada is demanding and controlling, and Yuto can’t help but surrender, to answer to Yamada’s passion bit by bit. 

It isn’t soft, or gentle. It’s a kiss but it’s also a lifeline; and Yuto suddenly understands, through the fog and the fire, that he wasn’t the only one that wanted this. 

Both of them are panting when they come up for air. Yuto turns away from Yamada, rest his back on the cold wall. He lights another cigarette because now he _really_ needs something to keep his hands busy. 

“I…,” Yuto begins, letting out the smoke slowly. 

Yamada snorts, and swiftly takes the cigarette from Yuto’s hand. He takes a long, long drag, then stubs it out. 

“Hey!” Yuto snaps, but there’s no venom left. He just feels exhausted. 

Yamada stands up, perfectly coordinated even though Yuto knows he still ought to be at least a little tipsy. He unlocks the door and turns his head to look at Yuto, who’s still sitting on the floor. 

“I can’t stand you either, you know?” Yamada says, opening the door. “We’ll have to work on that.” 

Then he’s gone, and Yuto is left alone, staring at the closed door. 

***

“That’s definitely a hickey”, Hikaru states, as soon as he enters the rehearsal room and takes his bass. 

“Hello to you too, Hikaru-kun. How was your weekend?” Yuto replies, trying to feign nonchalance and failing poorly. He also fails when he covertly tries to pull up the collar of his shirt to cover whatever Hikaru is seeing. 

“Not as good as yours, Yuto- _kun_.” Hikaru smiles wickedly at him. “Fixed everything I guess?” 

“Mind your own business, will you?” Yuto tries to sound stern, but he ends up laughing at Hikaru’s eyebrow wiggling anyway. “Shut up and play.” 

Yuto begins playing a slow beat at the drums. 

“No Red Hot Chili Peppers today?” Hikaru asks. His nonchalance is way better faked than Yuto’s. 

“I thought maybe we could just jam for a while?” As he speaks, Yuto is very much aware of Hikaru’s raised eyebrow, he just chooses to ignore it. “I’m feeling creative.” 

Yuto is also very aware of the effort it takes for Hikaru not to say anything about that. 

“Whatever you say, boss,” Hikaru says, simply; but he is still smiling. 

It turns out to be a great jamming session.


End file.
